Dog-eared Poetry

A narrative prose poem about life’s written portfolio...

He took the leather bound lose leaf book of poetry

down from the large quarter sawn antique book shelf.

The collection’s ordinary space was left vacant  

beside the thick unpublished manuscript,

the autobiography of a traumatic life lived.

~Tipped Over Toy Box and Broken Dreams~

He often thought of burning it with the evening’s fire

when awkwardly troubled in moments of lonely despair.

Wiping away the dust, the well-read memories

are marked by dog eared pages that trigger an ache.

He became overwhelmed by emotions~

Fading into a daydream, while the well seasoned hands

felt the familiar comfort where the well-thumbed pages

were often opened to places known by heart.

It was as if it were the only mirror pond

where he recognized the reflection.

Somewhere hidden amongst the countless hours of longing,

was the intimate sincerity confessed

in the miles of written silent reverie left behind ... hidden.

Many poems had been shared over time,

trying to reveal the infinite love he felt.

Only those few that passed close enough

to sense something hauntingly different,

reached out compassionately from at arms length.

Doing so seemed to leave him pondering an eerie empty feeling

Like a black sheep left behind, without a fold

He had tried relentlessly to be understood

but never really felt, with any known certainty,

he was able to solve his own undisclosed mystery.

Some thoughts were penned in hopeless hours of darkness.

Those could never be shared and yet in this moment,

they seemed like only word stained,

tattered and frayed, watermark sheets.

Poignant sentiment filled pages with flowing blue ink cursive

Quilled thoughts scribed across pages that represented

the indescribable written emotion of a lifetime.

Waking from a dream,

he placed the leather bound lose leaf book of poetry

back onto the large quarter sawn antique book shelf.

The leather bound cover refilling its vacant space

adjacent to the unpublished manuscript.

He looked down speaking softly but distinctively out loud …

The calico cat was stretching from her abruptly ended nap,

rubbing and purring for attention against his bare feet;

 “You know this book of poems is about a life well lived?”

 he rhetorically questioned his cat. 

As if answering his own question he said quietly,

"The essence of one man’s heart and soul"…

Harlon Rivers…December 13th, 2012

Authors Notes;   There are days in life when we have to do things we do not want to do because we need to... This was written on such a day while pondering the circle of life …It is a first draft because there was no time to edit and it was time to go for medical testing…it is as raw of honest emotion as there is from this so called writer. I have published and unpublished much over the last 9 months and there is as much cathartic writing from this time period published here in these 4 poetry blogs as there is that was published and now is not currently published…Life is perception and the tides ebb and flow creating constant change.  I just write about it because it helps me cope with emotional transition.   Just maybe someone who needs this kind of understanding and support may find some comfort because they may relate to the many trials and tribulations we face in life.